


Last Christmas

by GlitternGlow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8878117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitternGlow/pseuds/GlitternGlow
Summary: This will be a two part I think. 
Sherlock is back, John is betrayed. Mary wants him back. Sherlock wants to keep him. Happy Christmas will happen. But for who?
Just a little fluff for Johnlock Christmas. Sometimes dreams can come true.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all like this. I will get back to my main story soon - iCloud in its wisdom deleted it so I'm trying to piece it back together. 
> 
> Merry Christmas everyone.

Last Christmas he had been tied up, a crazy Serbian with crooked teeth playing with a knife as his friend proceeded to turn the crank that pulled his limbs apart. 

This Christmas he was sat in his chair. There were three days to go before the 'big day' but Sherlock didn't care. 

Last year he had John, taking to him while he was tortured. Soothing him with kind words and pushing the sweat soaked hair back from his brow. 

This year there was Mary. And maybe a baby too. Life had moved on without him. He would rather not have returned had he known it would be like this. It was Mycroft's fault of course. To keep John in the dark. 

He moved to go lie on the sofa, to visit the mind palace where his room of John was. Safely tucked away and taking up nearly three acres now. He loved his drawer of John scents. He could sit there forever and just take out each one. 

He was pulled back to reality as there was a bang downstairs. His first thought was that Mrs Hudson had fallen but there were steps, too heavy to be hers coming almost drunkenly up the stairs. 

The strong whiff of alcohol left him in no doubt that the person was drunk. And if the heavy footsteps hadn't told him then the soft curse followed by that amazing drunken giggle would have.

John.

John was on the stairs of Baker Street. 

He flew to the door and pulled it open to see John sat in the space outside the door. He looked up. Their eyes met and John giggled again. God Sherlock could listen to that forever. 

"John, what are you doing here?" He asked carefully as he knelt. His brain categorising everything - out a while. At least a .1 blood alcohol level. 

"S'not mine! Cheater b'ch. tol' me was 'n' wasn t'all. Not evn real!" 

Maybe change that to nearly a .2. This wasn't good. It took Sherlocks brain a few minutes to process that. Mary had cheated? The baby wasn't Johns'. Or not real? That explained his current state somewhat. John was sensitive. John cared. 

John was crying now. His tears dripping silently as he looked at Sherlock

"You want me right? I'm not just someone to throw away?" He asked with all trace of drunkenness gone from his voice. 

Sherlocks heart stilled. His entire body stiffened and an unholy anger burned inside him from nowhere. 

"How dare she," he hissed and without another word he pulled John to his feet, tucked him into his chair (yes it was still there) and proceeded to get his coat and scarf. 

"Wait here," he commanded and then was gone before John could say a word. Mrs Hudson walked in a moment later with tea on a tray and some of her homemade biscuits. 

"Hello John. Nice to see you. How's things?"

"Mrs Udsn. Youse a guddun. Looks outfer Sherl. Needs to now I gone. But's all gone nows notin left! Cept Him!"

Mrs Hudson helped him drink some tea, and fed him a biscuit. He started hiccuping and giggling again. 

"Where's Sher?" He slurred as he downed the rest of the tea. "S'nishe this stuff."

"You, Dr Watson are very drunk," she said fondly. "Go to sleep here now, come on. To the sofa."

She helped him to the sofa and he lay down. "Love im I do. Mrs H. You belibe me dontcha?!"

She nodded as she patted his head. "Of course I do. Sleep now. He will be back soon." 

She wandered about tidying for a little bit and John watched her. He was just slipping off to sleep when he heard the door. He sat bolt upright and then swayed dangerously. 

By the time he had righted himself Sherlock was coming through the door. John blinked. And again to clear his eyes. Sherlock was sporting a bruise on his chin that was spreading over his cheek. And it has most definitely not been there when he had left. 

Dr mode clicked over and John wobbled his way to the lanky man in the doorway who was unwrapping his scarf, falling a few times but never stopping. 

"Wha hap? To you. Why hurt? Sherlock talk me. Happen why-" he was stopped by Sherlocks finger on his lips. 

"You're babbling John. I am fine. I just had to have a little chat with Mary."

John's eyes widened when he said her name but otherwise his face was full of sadness. His fingers brushed the forming bruise on Sherlocks otherwise perfect face. He slipped to the side again, grabbing Sherlock's arm. Sherlock smiled at the warmth of that hand. 

"You got hurt cosh ofme," John whispered. Still slightly slurring and wobbly. He leant a hand against Sherlocks chest to keep himself up as his knees gave a little. He forced himself back up. Eyes catching Sherlocks again.

Sherlock put his hands on Johns muscled arms. He told himself it was to steady the tipsy man. But he knew better. He wanted to feel everything there was to him. Before Mary won him back. 

He had gone there with so much anger. Started to yell at her. Actually asked her how could she hurt a man like John. How could she make him feel worthless when he was the most perfect human on the planet?

She had laughed at him. Told him John would never see him as anything more than a friend and she would have him back soon. It was a misunderstanding. The other man was gone now. He didn't want the baby. John wouldn't be able to leave a baby fatherless. 

"Just relax. You're still under the influence of the alcohol." 

John nodded but pushed backwards and crashed into the chair, the wall and the counter on his way to the Kitchen. He came back with an ice pack wrapped in a towel and placed it to Sherlocks face. 

Sherlocks whole face softened as the sandy haired ex army officer concentrated on holding the blue tea towel to his face. He put his hand over John's. Carefully lacing his fingers over the doctors. 

"Thank you John," he whispered and the Doctor blinked again. 

"What....happened?" He forced the words to be clear. 

Last year John was only in his mind palace. 

This year John was so close he could smell and almost taste everything about him. Even his porridge coloured woollen jumper. How he hated that thing but right now he wanted to grab it and hold it close. 

Last year....last year he gave John his heart. Even if it was a figment of fantasy. 

This year he wouldn't let Mary get in the way. He has his chance. He knew it was a second one. The stag night had been his first. He wouldn't let this one slip away.

This year he would come out the winner. 

John slipped forwards, his head hitting Sherlock's chest with a soft thump and Sherlock moved his arms to catch as John went limp. The alcohol no doubt catching up with him on top of the worry he had seen etched on John's face. 

"Sleep. Things will look better in the morning," Sherlock muttered to himself before half lifting, half dragging the other man to bed. Mrs Hudson popped her head in and wished him goodnight before leaving the flat for her own. Sherlock stood and watched John sleep for a long time....


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. 
> 
> Happy Christmas Eve to all!
> 
> This is just some kinda fluff I felt I should write. 
> 
> No checker so if anyone spots anything let me know. And this chapter kinda got away from me. 
> 
> Hope you like and have a great Christmas.

Last year John had been a wreck. Or should he say still been a wreck. He had been dating Mary and it was going well. He could love her. Maybe. 

Last year Sherlock had been dead. He had screamed at Mycroft to bring him back. He had cried. And cried. He had contemplated his gun on more than one occasion...

Last year he had met Mary and she had "fixed" him. 

This year Mary was a cheater, carrying another mans baby and passing it off as his. This year his world had crumbled again. But somehow it wasn't so bad because...

This year Sherlock was alive. That had hit him hard. Harder than he thought possible after the things he had seen. But it was a quiet affair. He had thought he was going mad when Sherlock walked into that restaurant. 

But Sherlock was alive!

And now as the memories of last night played around John's head he waited for something to happen. For Mary to come and cause a scene. Or for Sherlock to come and cause a scene of a different kind. The ceiling was at once familiar and strange. The same texture as his own in Baker Street but he had never seen this before. 

He chucked and there was a huff as a mug of tea was placed on the nightstand. 

"Yes. You're in my room. Very astute observation."

"You mean you were too lazy to take me to my bed?" John joked with laughter in his voice. 

Sherlock had stilled again. His mind going blank. His eyes glazing as they did when he retreated to the Mind Palace. It was a place John would love to see. 

"You said 'my bed'," he whispered. His fingers clenching and un-clenching. John looked away. 

"Yeah, sorry. Bit of a habit I guess."

Sherlock didn't know what to say. John could tell. 

"You're welcome whenever you want," was what came out of Sherlocks mouth before he turned on his heel and left the room. 

John blinked again at the empty room. He must have been really drunk last night. He shouldn't have remembered it. But he was glad he did. 

He moved out into the kitchen looking for Sherlock and found him filling their old battered kettle. He didn't know why as his tea was in his hands and a steaming mug sat on the counter. He placed his beside it. 

This year he had choices to make. This year he was going to make it a good Christmas. 

"Sherlock, it's Christmas Eve," he said, not meaning to say that. Not wanting to change the subject. But it felt right. "Let's get the gang round. Mycroft -yes Sherlock, I said Mycroft. And Greg. Molly too if you want. And Mrs Hudson. Let's have a Christmas Eve gathering!"

He pulled out his phone and started to text people to come at 4. Mrs Hudson bustles upstairs. "I'll go get some food shall I?" She asked laughing, a lightness about her that hadn't been present before. She left again before either of them could give an answer. Sherlock hadn't moved. He was watching John carefully as without looking he shot a text off to Mycroft. 

'John in distress. Wants company. Baker street' and pressed send. Then he gave his attention back to the man in his living room, their living room?

"John....do you need to talk....about Mary?"

John's face darkened before it cleared and was replaced by a small smile. "No Sherlock. Not today. And not tomorrow. Mary doesn't exist now. Delete her."

"But...." He trailed off. How he had wanted this. How he wished for John to come to him of his own free will. But this wasn't was it. This was because he had been betrayed. John chuckled. 

"She's nothing compared to you, let the other guy have her. I don't care, just another mistake in girlfriends."

Sherlock searched his face looking for the lie, he couldn't find one and hope burgeoned in his chest. "What-" his brain short-circuited as the words sunk in but John was showing that bravery he was known for and pushed himself into Sherlocks personal space. 

"Tell me to stop and I will," he breathed as his hand slid onto Sherlocks bruised cheek. "You got hurt for my honour. I am not going to let you go ever again. I'll never let anything break us again." 

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply that he didn't understand. Though of course he did. He just wanted the words he knew needed to be said next. The ones that nearly burst fourth. Or would have if slightly chapped lips had not pressed to his own and the world stopped turning. Sherlocks brain fired, feelings overwhelmed him and filled him from the tips of his toes to the end of his hair. 

John pulled back with a frown then and averted his eyes "Sorry, I didn't think you wouldn't want to. I thought.....but I should have asked you." He went to move away and Sherlock forced his voice to work, making a pathetic noise from his throat. 

"I think what my brother means to say John, is that he is very happy with what you just did, but his brain has sort of short circuited."

"And it's about bloody time too!" Greg added, putting his head around the door. John blushed a rather cherry red and Sherlock found he loved it and wanted it to happen again. Instead he shot a death glare to Mycroft. 

"You're late, too busy getting the DI dressed?" 

It was Greg's turn to blush then and Mycroft sighed. "It is Christmas Eve Sherlock. Shall we just put aside the childishness for a few hours and act like normal human beings?"

John raised an eyebrow at Greg who just smiled and shrugged. John laughed then and rather uncharacteristically pulled him into a hug. "That's brilliant!" He laughed and Greg slowly hugged him back with a look over his shoulder at Sherlock. "But you weren't supposed to come until four, we haven't anything ready yet."

Mycroft gave a delicate cough then and people walked into the room with various decorations, and even a game of Twister which was set up near Sherlocks table. John watched for a moment and then laughed again. 

Mycroft raised an eyebrow as John started to help his men decorate the flat. "What happened Sherlock?" 

Though Mycroft had opened his mouth to ask the same, it was the detective who asked. 

Sherlock sighed. "Baby isn't his."

And with those three words the kitchen fell into complete silence. Greg had his fists clenched but Mycroft put a hand on his arm. 

"He is deflecting?" He asked with a small frown. "I see."

"What is it?" Greg whispered. He knew something was wrong from the way the brothers were acting but he didn't know what. Then it clicked. "He kissed you, but Sherlock I'm pretty damn sure that's been coming for a long time. It might not be because he's betrayed, but because he's free now?"

Hope came to Sherlocks face as Mycroft snorted. "Just be careful Sherlock, he might go into a spiral and you'll be needed."

"What are you all doing? Drink?" John interrupted before Sherlock could ask why of Mycroft. His mood had turned sour but John was bouncing off the walls now. His happiness infectious, causing Greg to laugh and a small smile to grace Sherlocks face. 

"Wow! Myc that's amazing!" Greg almost yelled as he looked up at John and saw the now over decorated living room of Baker Street. Sherlock frowned at the tree and tinsel and streamers everywhere. Paper chains hung across the ceiling and a garland graced the fireplace obscuring his skull.  
John shuffled, looking at his hands which twisted in front of him. "Too much? I'm sorry. I know you don't like this sort of thing. I'll get them to take it down." 

He turned slowly and walked back into the living room to the tree and stared to take the baubles off. Sherlock almost ran to him and took his hand. "Leave them. I can cope for a day...for you."

John blushed again, looking at the long fingers holding his. The world dropped away from them. 

"Are you sure?" He breathed. "I'm sorry, about before....and last night being drunk. Thank you for letting me stay."

"You're always welcome here John, that wasn't a lie. I...I'm not...good with these things."

John looked down at their still entwined hands again with a smile. "Me either, but that's ok. Everything is ok now, for today."

"Lets play Twister!" Lestrade yelled, bouncing into the room with a beer in hand. Three pairs of eyes followed, with two incredulous looks and one amused one.

"Come on guys, it's Christmas, at least get into the spirit," John said and made towards where the Twister was laid on the floor. Greg was already pulling out the spinner and throwing it to John.

"You play and spin, you'll be fairest and not cheat," he chuckled and John nodded

"Ok, come on then, first spin Sherlock is......right hand blue."

Sherlock sighed but started to walk over when he saw the look on John's face it had been hopeful and his eyes had been alive like when they had kissed. He never wanted to see John broken. He had seen enough of that while he was dead to last him more than a lifetime.

"Onwards to our doom then Myc," he muttered, appropriating the shortening that Greg had used much to the elders chagrin. 

The game quickly progressed into a competition between the four of them. Each making the most acrobatic poses possible to move their hands and feet to the colours dots. John had his leg under Greg's arm, Mycroft was on top and Sherlock was bottom of the pile. 

"Ok....Mycroft. Left foot yellow. Oh my god how are you going to manage that one?" John spluttered as yellow happened to be the other side of him. Mycroft raised a brow and then smiled and John watched in amazement as he turned his body over and was then face to face with John. They were so close that they could breathe each other's breath. Sherlock growled a bit and shifted causing the whole thing to collapse with him on the bottom and John, Mycroft and Greg in a heap atop him.

"Childish Sherlock," Mycroft muttered as he started to extract himself from the pile of limbs.

"Oh my. What are you boys doing?" Mrs Hudson laughed as he deposited various bags on the table in the kitchen. 

"Don't be silly Mrs Hudson, you can see very well we were playing a game," Sherlock said scathingly as he went over to the window and picked up his violin. Everyone winced as the first note came out, expecting some horrible screech but the most melodic note floated through the flat and John relaxed with an easy smile. It was one of his favourites.

He went into the kitchen and soon could be heard chatting happily to Mrs H while they put away what needed putting away and started prep for the dinner. The others would be here in a few hours. Molly was bringing her newest crush, a man no doubt completely unworthy of her, Sherlock closed his eyes and concentrated on the notes. He played this when John had nightmares to lull him back to sleep. A piece he had composed himself and never titled. He was happy that John was seemingly fine, but he knew Mycroft was right he knew it wouldn't last. It was just a question of-

His violins playing stuttered as he heard the footsteps, he hadn't heard the door but those footsteps. Heavy with the weight they were now carrying could not be anyone else,

"John, get my phone from the bedroom would you," he called and in the same breath getting everyone's attention. John laughed and with a huffed but fond "lazy git" he wandered into he bedroom. The others stared at Sherlock and he put the bow back to work but quieter so he could talk. "Mary," he said and nodded towards the door.

Lestrade was the first to move to the door, opening it and seeing Mary on the stairs.

"You were not invited."

Mary stopped and looked at him, three steps lower than the landing and her hand on the wall. She didn't look dangerous but the Holmes knew different. Mycroft walked out next and she took a step back.

"How nice to see you Miss Morstan, or should I address you with your real name, Miss-"

"Mycroft, always where you aren't wanted. I'm here to see John. Nothing else and as soon as i have I'll be gone for good."

"I apologise then, but there is no way you are getting in here to see John," Sherlock said as he emerged onto the landing. He watched Mary's eyes linger on the bruise she had given him and she fought not to smile at it.

"Don't you think that should be his decision to make? Not yours, he isn't yours anymore Sherlock. He belongs to me now."

Sherlock laughed and Greg had stepped forwards with his handcuffs in hand. "I think you had better leave now, before I have to take things further," he spoke through grit teeth and held the handcuffs out for all to see.

"Sherlock, I've got your blooming phone, why on earth did you leave it the- hey what are you all doing on the la....nding?" He trailed off as he saw Mary there, her belly swollen with a child that was not his, her hair styled just as he had liked it. She smiled at him and he drew in a quick breath. He absently handed the phone to Sherlock and took a step forward. Three hands stopped him from moving through them and Mary arched an eyebrow. 

"He wants to come with me, dont you John?" She asked. John ignored her and pushed open the door to the kitchen.

"Can we borrow your flat Mrs H? Just for a few minutes?"

"Of course you can, anything for my boys," she said and bustled out. John followed her downstairs, not pausing as he passed Mary and continued down the stairs. At the turning he stopped,

"You coming?" He asked her and she nodded and started to turn down the stairs.

"Remember what I said," Sherlock suddenly half yelled. John looked up at him, eyes meeting and serious. He gave a sure nod and then was gone. Mary hissed at him.

"He will never leave a helpless child Sherlock, it's the one thing I can give him that you will never be able."

She went then, lost to the downstairs of Baker Street. Mrs Hudson came back up a moment later and eyed the three men on the landing. 

"Why on earth is she here?" She asked with hands on hips, "Between the police, Sherlock and you Mr Government don't you think you should have been able to stop her coming here?"

The two elders started to explain but Sherlock merely turned and went into the living room, throwing himself into his chair and folding his arms.

"She won't convince him of anything Sherlock. He wants you," Lestrade said softly and took a seat on the sofa. Mycroft dropped next to him and Mrs Hudson went to make tea.

\-----  
John pointed at the table he had sat at many a time to have tea and biscuits. "Sit," he ordered and Mary knew better than to argue with this John. This John was army John, Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.

"What are you doing here Mary? We haven't got anything to talk about. After last night...there's nothing to say anymore is there?"

Mary sighed and put her head in her hands, her fingers running into her hair. "I don't want to lose you John, I don't care about anything else but I don't want to lose this."

John laughed. It was cruel he knew but he had nothing left inside of him now, a hole gaped where she had been and it was a hole in his heart that was quickly being surrounded and repaired by one Sherlock Holmes. It had struck him last night when he had stumbled drunk along the streets that the only place he called home was wherever Sherlock was, that he wanted that man in his life, no matter what it took. Turning up drunk had probably not been the best answer to that, and neither had kissing him this morning no matter what Greg thought of it. But the fact of the matter was, Mary was dead to him. 

"Please John," she stared up at him, she knew that look. Killers had been levelled with that look on her behalf, to save her skin despite all she had done. 

"I forgave you once Mary, I forgave when you hurt him. Last night you did it again and with a baby to think of as you got into a fight. Go away from us, I don't care where but not England. I'll get Mycroft to look for somewhere safe, or you can find somewhere yourself. I don't care, i just never want to see your lying, cheating face again."

Silence reigned in the flat then as he finished speaking, his chest heaving even though he hadn't raised his voice at all. Mary was looking devastated at the table, her mouth opening and closing and then it shut, and anger filled her face. She stood up and went to move out of the door.

"I loved you you know?" She said, stopping near where he stood.

"No, you loved that I loved you, that I was stable and something you could rely on to keep you safe. You don't care for anyone but yourself Mary, never have,"

She screamed then and threw herself at him, crashing into the wall and knocking plates from the tall unit Mrs Hudson kept collectibles on. They made an almighty crash as John pushed her back to get his bearings and lost them again as he glanced at his arm, blood running down it in rivulets. Must have been a plate.

\---

They moved like lightening. All three of them were up and out of their seats at the bang, Sherlock raced downstairs as the crash flowered and Mrs Hudson brought up the rear as she stumbled downstairs after them.

Don't be dead, were the only words going around Sherlock's head as he sun around the corner of the stairs and barrelled towards Mrs Hudson's door. He banged it open, aware that Mycroft and Lestrade were not even a second behind.

He stopped in the entrance to the flat, his brother and Greg crashing into the back of him and making him take a step forward. Mary lay in the middle of the floor, her eyes closed and her head bleeding. Mycroft went over to her to check her pulse.

"Breathing but hurt, would you Greg?" He said with a quick glance. Greg already had his phone out and requested a car and an ambulance to arrive at Baker Street. 

"Where is he?" Sherlock whispered, his eyes moving, taking in everything of the fight. How John had pushed her back but she had thrown herself back at him, the plate shards on the floor were covered with blood, John's blood. He knew she had used one to cut him, perhaps stab him somewhere but he couldn't tell, there was blood on her hand from where the shard had cut into her as she gripped it. He had tried not to hurt her. Using defence and skill to manoeuvre around the tiny kitchen...she had fallen, hit her head on the table corner. But where was John.

"John?" He tried, his eyes were blurry as he took another step into the kitchen, "John...are you here?"

There was a chuckle and John appeared from the bathroom, a bloody cloth held to his side and blood dripping from the fingers of his other hand. Sherlock ran to him, cataloging his injuries. 

"I'm alright," h breathed and touched Sherlock's face. He moved his bloodied hand to hold the cloth and pulled him into a one armed hug. "Don't be upset," he whispered into Sherlock's ear. Sherlock grabbed Johns jumper in his fist as that warm hand cradled the back of his head.

"You said-you said you wouldn't let anything break."

John chuckled as the ambulance crew invaded the room and Mycroft and Greg explained the situation. Mycroft had them out as soon as humanly possible and Sherlock turned slightly as he felt the presence at their side.

"Do you require medical attention Dr?" He asked, his eyes looking over their heads at something further into the living room.

"Stitches," John said softly, "but in a minute."

Mycroft nodded and left the flat. Sherlock winced as he heard Molly's voice out in the hallway, and Greg began explaining to her and her new beau what had happened.

Now they all know," John said softly. "It's alright Sherlock, I promise. Delete it."

Sherlock looked up at him, his eyes still rimmed by unshod tears and John smiled at him, that crooked half smile he loved so so much before leaning up on his toes to press their lips together once more. Sherlock whined as those lips left, causing John to chuckle again.

"I'll get stitched up, go sort yourself out and get Mrs h to get the dinner out, its Christmas Eve Sherlock, and there may be no more games for me now but there will be food and fun."  
Sherlock nodded "Yes, John," he managed with a smile and John nodded to him before walking out to the waiting medic. Sherlock stayed in that flat for a few moments before he swept upstairs so quickly no one even saw him but John. Mycroft raised an eyebrow and John shook his head.

The stitches were easy enough, cleaned and bandaged and everyone left to their respective jobs. Greg helped John back upstairs to Mycroft, Molly and her new boyfriend, Kennith who was tall and dark, just like the rest of them. John politely greeted him, and said a happy Christmas before Greg deposited him in his chair.

"Right, anyone up for more Twister before dinner?"

Sherlock shot John a look but he just laughed. "Beat them all," he grinned and Sherlock grinned back, his previous subdued demeanour vanished.

"John can spin!" He announced San Mrs Hudson warned there was only twenty minutes before dinner would be ready. They acknowledged while all getting into position and John started to spin. They were good but Sherlock took it to a new lever, contorting himself into shapes that John was sure must hurt like hell, he won the game after Molly collapsed, taking Kennith and Greg with her, nod Mycroft needed to get his leg to a spot near his head. John clapped happily and Sherlock stood up.

"What do I win?" He asked hastily and John struggled to stand up. Mycroft helped him with a hand on his elbow.

"A kiss for the winner," he said softly and pulled Sherlock towards him and down, their lips meeting in the middle to catcalls from Greg, and a knowing smile from Mycroft.

Molly stood in shock for a moment before she laughed and clapped. Sherlock was melting inside, his bones turning to useless goop. What on earth was John doing with his tongue, and how could he learn that to do it back. John pulled back a little, leaving a nip on his lower lip. A promise in his eyes that later they would continue this. Sherlock realised his hands were gripping John tightly and so he smirked and licked his lisp. John's pupils contracted and Sherlock leaned down for another quick kiss before he stood.

"Dinner now then!" He said and headed into eh kitchen. John turned to follow and a hiss escaped his teeth as the stitches pulled, he shouldn't move that quickly but thankfully Greg was there and they made it to the kitchen with no more trouble. Sherlock made John sit next to him and Mycroft carved the huge rump of beef that ha appeared from somewhere. It was like an almost Christmas dinner and John was obviously enjoying himself. By the end of dinner though everyone could tell he was tired. He pushed himself up and Sherlock was there immediately.

"Sorry guys, eventful night, well day really. I'll talk to you all tomorrow?"

They all bid him goodnight, Greg getting up and Mycroft followed as John was helped by Sherlock through the living room.

"John, merry Christmas mate," Greg said and hugged him. "Take care of yourselves, we will watch the others out here."

Mycroft nodded and smiled. "Take care of him," was all he said before turning back to the kitchen.

"Thanks for coming, and thank him for being sociable, I know he doesn't like it."

Sherlock snorted, "he had no choice today, I would have stopped talking to him if he had been anything but sociable."

Lestrade laughed and walked away.

"I don't really need help Sherlock, you can go back there," he said softly but Sherlock shook his head.

"No stairs, my room."

John hesitated a moment but Sherlock pulled him gently along and gave him pyjamas and a little push to the bathroom. John wasn't long and Sherlock pulled back the bedcovers. He sat on the other side and smoothed John's hair back.

"Thank you, it was the best gift I could have hoped for' more than I ever could have hoped for."

John's eyes were drooping but he forced them open a little nod nodded, " Mine too," he shivered as sleep took him.

Sherlock returned to the party outside until two in the morning when everyone left with shouts of Merry Christmas. Mrs Hudson helped him clean a bit, and then she too went to bed. Sherlock wasn't tired but he wanted to see John, so he moved silently into his room and laid on the bed. John was facing inwards, so it was easy to watch him breathing. An hour passed and john's eyes snapped open in shock and with a shout. Sherlock's arm shot out to stop him from hurting himself and barely succeeded as John settled with a hiss and a hand to his side. 

"Damn stitches," he muttered and then looked at Sherlock. "Is everyone gone?" He asked and Sherlock nodded back.

"Yes, finally."

John smiled, a soft, sleep mussed smile and took his hand. "You loved it really," he teased. "I love you Sherlock, you know that right?"

Sherlock fell silent, he didn't know what to say to that. From his research saying 'I love you' was a big step in a relationship, and he and John hadn't even decided what this thing was. It could be just kissing and Sherlock would be happy for the rest of his life. John frowned and tried to turn away. The movement getting Sherlock's attention.

"Do you even care Sherlock? Do you l-love me?" He asked, his face going cherry red again. Sherlock's smile spread widely across his face as he watched John avert his eyes.

"Love is an abstract concept John," he began, knowing that would snap John's eyes back to him and it did. He smiled gain and John blinked slowly. "What I mean is...I cannot exist without you. You're the constant in my mind. The light to the dark. The sounding board, the mirror to my magnificent but never ceasing thoughts. You are the one who tempers me. What John would think is a thought that stops me. Helps me. Love is insignificant to what I feel for you. Without you I would cease to be."

John was gaping like a fish, his eyes wide and shocked at that declaration. Then a smile like the sunrise split his face and Sherlock was wrapped in the love and arms of John Hamish Watson, the one man to ever make him feel anything more than irritation.

Last year they were miserable and apart.

This year they were bound, tighter than either had been before. John would get his wish. 

"Merry Christmas Sherlock,: he breathed as Sherlock's lips met his own

"Merry Christmas John, my John," Sherlock purred.

This year would be a very merry Christmas


End file.
